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A Journey through Seventh Grade
This is a true story, the story of Roman’s last year at La Salle Academy in Seventh Grade. All names have been kept the same and most situations have been left the same. The First Week Day 1 It was the beginning of a brand new year. Summer vacation was over, and I was going to be heading into Seventh Grade at my school, La Salle Academy. That meant that now I would have most of my classes upstairs rather than on the ground floor. It also meant that I wouldn’t share the same school schedule with my entire homeroom; we were each assigned our own individual schedules.Yet the biggest difference between this year and last year was that this was my final year in South Bend, Indiana. I should be happy, I could finally leave the eighth most dying city in America, filled with racist bumpkins, ghetto children, white trash, country folk, and elderly people. I honestly hate most people I would meet from all of those groups, but Indiana had started to grow on me, and this last transient year would have to be my best, for I was fated to move to the far off land of Hawaii during the next summer. At the end of last year, things had started to look up for me. My friends had disbanded our infamous Nintendo Squad to form my own nerdy Nintendo-oriented team, called NU, standing for Nintendo Universe. We ditched my old frienemy Kenny along with the Nintendo Squad and now it looked like peace for NU. Yet when I came in to the gym for morning assembly and sat with my friends Bryce, Robert, Connor, and Gage, no talk went on about NU, and I decided it was either because they all secretly decided to ditch it or because they simply had forgotten, but either way that would actually come to help me in the future, as one less nerdy antic always helped in one’s strife for popularity. Things were still quiet among my friends, but I wasn’t the one who was about to bring that up. I was still in a daze, as if my brain had yet to process that summer was over and school had started again. Eventually the bell rang, signaling the start of school, so I went off to my homeroom upstairs at Mr. Ramos’s room. Once in Mr. Ramos’s room, however, I instantly knew I was going to loathe his homeroom forever. For starters, I hardly knew anyone in there, except for Zach who had been my mere back-up friend last year and Maryclaire, whom my friend Connor had had a crush on the year previous. I went up to the front row of the room and sat myself right down, not wanting to be caught up in the needless drama and ghetto-ness that lies in the back of each classroom. Soon, homeroom came and passed, and I was given my schedules. Like every first day of school, we started off with an A Day, meaning my first period was A1, my Algebra 1 Honors class. I went in and I honestly thought that this would be a fun class. The teacher had us do fun math activities and puzzles and play cards and whatnot, so I checked that one down as one of my better classes. The next period was A2, my FACs (home economics) class. What would happen here could be the start of a wonderful friendship or my greatest misery, and it was both. I came in a minute before the bell rang, and as the tables were divided into groups of three, I went and sat down with a black kid I didn’t know as it was the only open table. Then, moments before the bell rang, in came the person that changed my life forever. She came in the room and looked around and noticed the seat next to mine was the only open one, she took it. Apparently she seemed to recognize me, yet I was still at a loss for who she was. At first, I actually thought she was a boy. She had short curly brown hair and wide eyes, but she was Caucasian. She was a bit shorter than me, but not by a lot. She wore a navy blue sweater over a light blue polo and wore khaki pants and Ugg boots. She had a voice that was almost melodious, and was friendly enough. “Hey, I know you!” the girl exclaimed. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” I said, a little nervous. “You were in Mr. Muckle’s class in Fifth Grade, right?” she asked. “Oh, right,” I said, trying to remember if she was in my class. “I was in Ms. Zents’s class, the one right next to yours. You’re Roman, right?” she asked. “Yeah. What was your name again?” I asked, not having a clue of who she was. “My name is Mila,” she said. Then I remembered her, she was one of the numerous girls that one of the people I despise the most and doesn’t know it, James, dated. I saw her at the last Valentine’s Day Dance giving James her piece of pizza. “Oh, I think I remember you now,” I said, nonchalantly. She was one of the popular girls, and if I had heard correctly, they could be vicious. But Mila didn’t seem vicious, she was very hard to describe. So, FACs class started soon after that. The teacher, Mrs. Soderberg, passed out a syllabus and began to talk deeply about the proper use of a frying pan and why America had become so uncultured, which gave me just enough time to study Mila. She seemed innocent enough, but I didn’t want any unneeded drama. That jinxed me so hard down the road, though. I would soon find out the true meaning of unneeded drama. So, second period came to an end and Mila walked with me out of the classroom. We were having small talk on how our Sixth Grade years went differently. Yet then she slipped in a question into our conversation. “So, Roman, do you have a girlfriend? I guess you do, but…” she started, not finishing. “No, actually. I’ve always been single,” I said, not realizing how stupid I had sounded until days later. “Do you want one?” asked Mila. “Yes!” I said, kind of blurting it out, making me blush. “Hm,” she said, and then walked away. I went down to my next period then, which was A3, Honors English. I came in pretty early, so I scanned around the room. The place seemed innocent enough, not minding the clay jar of ashes that had the label “Ashes of problem students” on it. There wasn’t really many people that I knew, only people that I would get to know later (if you know what I mean). The teacher, Mrs. Amato, went through a short introduction and then let us talk quietly amongst ourselves. I ended up talking to a short girl with glasses and long brown hair. “I know you,” she said. “Doesn’t everybody?” I asked. “You’re Alex’s friend, Roman,” she said. “Yeah. What’s your name?” I asked her. “My name is Kyra.”“Oh, that’s nice,” I said. Just then, the bell rang, signaling time for lunch, as lunch was in the middle of third period. I went and ate lunch with my buddies from the former NU/Nintendo Squad and then returned to third period. Mrs. Amato went on with her introduction then and finally, third period was finished. I went on to my A4 class, then, which was Gym. In Gym, we began to go through the long process of getting lockers and locks and gym uniforms. I talked to my friend Alex, who is a short-ish chunky-ish kid with glasses and red hair. Kyra was also in that class, so we talked there, too. Finally, my first day was over. I had made some new friends, started ignoring some old ones, and life seemed to be heading in a sort of good direction. Day 2 I came back the next day and went back to my normal spot on the bleachers. I talked with my common group of friends from last year, but I started feeling distant, as if I didn't really fit in with them as much as I used to. Not fitting in with misfits kind of stank, but I didn't think much of it, as the bell soon rang. I went along to my first class as the first day was te only day we'd actually have homeroom first. Today was a B Day, so I went to my B1 class, Band, which is one of the only classes I was actually familiar with. I went on in and took a seat in the tuba section. Since Band class is usually always big, I never really notice that many individual people there. But today, I was able to point out more people. I saw that Mila was in the flute section, and I started to blush. I quickly hurried aside what I was thinking of so I could try to pay attention to what the teacher, Mrs. Walker, was saying. Category:Gozon Category:Story Category:Journal